


Confrontations

by aeriamamaduck



Series: Dragon Age: Origins [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Multiple Wardens, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A violent encounter in Denerim's streets forces Siri and Zevran to define their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Siri walked through the streets, briefly closing her eyes as the apple’s taste burst in her mouth. Their weapons were sorely in need of repair after the Deep Roads, and Herren was not all that eager to welcome their coin after Wade spent days making the drakeskin armor.

 _I could go to that Gorim fellow. Doesn’t his father-in-law have a smithy?_ Even so, she went into the street where Marjolaine  _used_ to live.  _I wonder if they cleaned that mess up yet._

There were fewer stalls in this street, but it could not hurt to check. Siri tossed the apple core in a barrel and went down that way, eyeing a stall attended by a bald dwarf.

She stopped in her tracks and her stomach tightened horribly when she got near enough to see his face and the brand on his right cheek. She started to breathe hard, her heart racing when she recalled the last time she saw that face. 

She was two, playing on the floor of their hovel with a rag Rica had tied off on one end to make a doll. Mother was screaming and a bigger shape was taking heavy steps toward the door.

The man stopped when he took hold of the handle and turned to look down at her. Siri had reached her arms up for him to pick her up. He always had when she did that.

He’d swiftly walked out of the hovel and Siri never saw him again.

Yet there he was, laying out daggers and swords on a table as though everything were normal. As if he hadn’t left two daughters and a partner behind in Dust Town.

She found herself walking toward him, her eyes burning and her throat tightening. What could she say to him? Would he even remember her?

She stopped in front of the stall and he looked up upon hearing her approach. He looked…far better-off than Mother did, but older. He smiled and bowed to her, “At your service, kinswoman.”

 _Ancestors, his voice!_  She remembered it often, but never anything specific. Just…the sound of it. She took a breath in an attempt to steady her voice. “…You’re Corin?”

“Indeed I am.”

“…Don’t you remember me?” Moisture swam in her eyes and she tried to breathe through her nose when her throat decided to stop working.

His brow furrowed in confusion for a few moments before recognition sparked in his eyes—eyes like hers—and he looked at her with utter shock. “… _Siri…”_

She nodded and swallowed thickly. “Yes, it’s me. I didn’t come looking for you.” Bronto piss, did her voice  _need_ to crack like that? “In fact, I didn’t even know you were still alive.”

Corin blinked and looked away, the flicker of shame on his face doing little to make her feel better. “I…I’ve been here for two years. How are your mother and sister?”

“Fine,” Siri replied curtly. “Extraordinary. Mother drank every day and beat us for looking at her wrong. Rica whored herself out for years until she had King Bhelen’s son. Now they’re living in the palace, comfortable as can be.”

Everything flowed out of her quickly, but there was obvious surprise on Corin’s face. “Well, that’s…that’s good for–”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, glaring at him. “Don’t you  _dare_  say it’s good. Not when you didn’t see if for yourself. You know I told myself that you were probably dead. That had to be the only reason you never went back to make sure I was okay. You knew. You left and you  _knew_  Rica and I could end up that way!”

She didn’t raise her voice, but it shook as she accused him and watched him remain silent, eyes turned away.

She wiped at her eyes, hating herself for weeping like a pathetic child. “Why didn’t you go back? Why didn’t you try harder to convince Mother?”

Corin sighed heavily and answered softly, “I…I honestly don’t know. I was out of Orzammar. I wasn’t casteless anymore. I didn’t want to go back and lose that feeling.”

 _That feeling of worth_ , she thought, the traitorous thought making her mouth taste like bile.

“I thought about you,” he went on, gazing at her. “I thought that maybe I should’ve picked you up and taken you with me. But there’s not much use in just thinking. If I could go back I would’ve done just that.”

Siri glared at him, hating him for being alive. “…I’ll never see you again,” she said quietly. “I didn’t need you and I didn’t need Mother. I had Rica, and she gave me what I needed. I made it out on my own and I’ll never need a thing from you again.”

She turned away from him, ears roaring with fury and her eyes burning, and went wherever her feet took her.

She bit the insides of her cheeks so hard she tasted blood, forcing herself to keep her tears in check until she was well hidden-away and as far from Corin as possible.

 _Damn him. Damn him to the Dead Trenches and back!_ She didn’t need him anymore. She never did.

Rica gave her love and taught her about it. Rica gave her comfort. Rica saved her.

Turning into a deserted alley, she leaned against a wall and wiped at her eyes, breathing and trying not to break into sobs.  _Stop it, just stop it…_

“Siri.” A hand fell on her shoulder, making her spin around to find Zevran standing there, worry wrinkling his smooth brow. “Are you alright?”

Wiping her cheek, Siri asked, “You followed me?”

“I…I’d hoped to join you in the market and heard your voice,” he explained. “I turned the corner in time to see you say something to that dwarf gentleman and you ran into this alley.”

She scoffed, her voice giving a weak crack. “Don’t call that bastard a gentleman. He’s everything but.” Somehow the warmth of his hand on her arm steadied her, and his thumb was drawing warm circles on her skin. “…He’s my father.”

That surprised him. “…Really?”

“Look, I don’t…I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to head back that way. Let’s just…see if we can get back to the estate through this alley.” She moved away from his hand and into the alley, wavering as she caught her breath.

Zevran quickly caught up to her and moved to stand in front of her, hands on both her shoulders and looking her in the face. “Siri, you do not look well at all.” There was an uncharacteristic note of true worry in his voice. “Please allow me to–”

Suddenly there was a laugh coming from the direction of the stairs leading to a building, and Zevran’s grip on her arms tightened. Siri looked over her shoulder and saw five humans standing atop the steps, daggers and bows drawn and aimed in their direction. The one in the middle—handsome and dark-haired—was smirking at them.

He declared haughtily, “And so here is the mighty Grey Warden at long last. The Crows send their greetings, once again.”

A chill crept down Siri’s spine.  _No…No, they’ve found him._  She looked up at Zevran’s face, and saw the same grim realization and bitter recognition.

He held her close, a black look on his face as he addressed the man. “So they sent you, Taliesen? Or did you volunteer for the job?”

She vaguely remembered hearing the name before.  _Master Ignacio, before we killed him._

Taliesen replied with a slow shrug, “I volunteered, of course. When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself.”

Zevran gave him a bitter smile, gently pushing Siri away from him. “Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh.”

Siri gasped softly, remembering what Zevran’s failure to kill her and Fenthari meant.  _No…Paragons have mercy, Zevran, no!_

Taliesen, however, raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “You can return with me, Zevran. I know  _why_  you did this, and I don’t blame you. It’s not too late. Come back and we’ll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake.”

She didn’t quite know why she said what she did, but she found herself stepping forward and staring daggers at Taliesen. “Zevran belongs with me now,” she stated, hands ready to reach for her daggers.

The Crow laughed dismissively, eyes twinkling with malice as he looked down at Siri, just like so many others had. “You don’t even know who you’re talking about, do you?”

Zevran replied with such venom and hate in his voice, “And neither do you, Taliesen.” He unsheathed his daggers, and Siri knew to do the same. “I’m sorry, my old friend. But the answer is no, I’m not coming back…and you should have stayed in Antiva.”

And then it began with Zevran racing towards one of the archers, deflecting an arrow and slicing at her arm.

Everything went into sharp focus as Siri aimed at Taliesen, drawing from the anger and hatred that had filled her so suddenly in the last few minutes.

But the Crow knew she was coming and effortlessly blocked each of her blows, wrists flicking to turn his defense into an offense. Siri ducked his strikes, stabbing backwards at another man’s ankle when he tried to sneak behind her. He fell heavily and she struck at the always-fatal spot on a thigh, and blood spurted out of the wound.

She rolled away when Taliesen swung at her, the whites of his teeth flashing as he grinned viciously. “Zevran’s taught you well! Were you able to meet his standards, somehow?”

Siri spat, “Someone’s going to fall, and it  _isn’t going to be me!”_  Not now, not when she had the freedom she’d yearned for. Their daggers clanged as they met in the air, ringing around them.

She heard Zevran grunt in exertion and glanced in his direction.  _Zevran!_

Then her throat burned as cold steel sank into her the side of her neck, slicing it open. She cried out in pain and backed away quickly, her heart hammering as she waited to start choking on her own blood.

It never happened.

What did happen was that Zevran shouted her name, his voice pained even as he sank his dagger into the other archer’s chest. But Siri didn’t look in his direction, her grip on her own weapons tightening as Taliesen advanced on her, the edge of his blade dripping with her blood and the humor gone from his face.

Siri began to fall to the side, a feint Taliesen fell for as he surged in that direction right before she pulled back and swung her dagger to hit his shoulder.

He snarled in rage, regaining his balance and aiming for her side. Siri caught the blade between hers and twisted, but he maintained his grip and pulled away. Thinking quickly she turned her dagger in her hand and brought it towards Taliesen’s stomach before he could get away.

She met the resistance of strong leather and flesh, but years of experience and the strength of her arm overcame it and she sank her dagger in deep.

Taliesen’s eyes widened in shock just as blood dribbled from his mouth. Siri smirked in victory, kicking him off her blade and watching him sprawl backwards on the ground. Arms burning with bloodlust she quickly straddled his chest and pushed her dagger into his throat, breathing hard as he twitched beneath her and finally died.

She panted hard, the world falling to near silence as blood pooled around her. Then she remembered Zevran and frantically looked around for him.

She found him kneeling among the corpses, scratches along his arms and armor, but  _alive_. He looked up at her and his eyes fell on her neck, then he paled in horror and got to his feet to go to her. “Siri!”

“Zevran,” she breathed.

He pulled her off of Taliesen and held her in front of him, his breaths erratic and his gaze focused on the gash on her neck. He brought a shaking hand up close enough to touch it but refrained. “Blood of Andraste…Are you alright?!”

She swallowed and nodded, trembling when the gash began to hurt. “I think so…What about you?”

Zevran nodded and silently looked at the corpse beside them, a strange look in his eyes. “And there it is. Taliesen is dead, and I am free of the Crows. They will assume I am dead along with Taliessen. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out.”

Siri asked with a hint of fear, “That’s a good thing, right?”

This time he smiled with relief. “A very good thing. It is, in fact, what I had hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me.” Then he let her go and glanced away from her. “I suppose it would be possible for me to leave, now, if I wished, I could go far away, somewhere where the Crows would never find me.”

Her heart stuttered and must have nearly come to a stop when he said that. Siri kept her face expressionless but inside she was screaming and begging him not to leave.  _No, for the love of the Ancestors, please don’t leave me. I love you, I love you so much, and it hurts that I can never tell you._

Something must have betrayed her, because Zevran frowned when he finally looked at her again and he rearranged his face so he had his usual playful grin back. “I think, however, that I could also stay here. I made an oath to help you, after all. And saving the world seems a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?”

Siri beamed at that, realizing just how he’d  _ruined_ her so thoroughly. “I would be glad to have you stay,” she told him, her voice steady as possible.

Zevran kept smiling. “Then stay I shall. I’m with you until the end…provided you do not tire of me first. Or I die. Or you die. But there you go.”

They shared a laugh at that, Siri forcing it from her throat. Her knees were shaking and she felt faintly nauseous but she refused to let him see. She would remain strong, just for him, and she’d never lose him.


	2. Chapter 2

Wynne had healed their injuries upon their return to the estate, their companions’ faces growing pale with shock when they saw Siri’s neck covered in blood. She looked at herself in the mirror, stroking the spot where Taliesen’s dagger had hit. Wynne hadn’t left a scar.

Zevran toyed with something in his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, and he looked rather restless. Usually by this time of evening he was buoyant with energy, his fingers seductively dancing across her shoulders. Tonight he was pensive, perhaps due to the encounter with Taliesen. 

Still she turned around and simply said, “You’re quiet tonight.”

Zevran glanced at her with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He stood up and walked to her, holding his hand out to her and opening his palm. “Here…it seems an appropriate moment to give you this.”

Siri’s eyes widened at the golden object resting in the middle of Zevran’s palm, decorated with a tiny blue gem. “Is that an earring?”

He nodded and a reminiscent smile appeared on his face. “I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows. A Rivaini merchant prince, and he was wearing a single, jeweled earring when I killed him. In fact, that’s about all he was wearing. I thought it was beautiful and took it to mark the occasion. I’ve kept it since…and I’d like you to have it.”

She plucked it up, smiling when she felt how it had been warmed by the heat of his hand. “Thank you, Zevran. It’s so beautiful!” It truly was, the gem catching the light prettily. Her heart raced uncontrollably and soared with hope for the first time since Zevran first made love to her, and her mind whirled with thoughts of how his golden eyes would glow when he saw her wearing the earring. Just a tiny, beautiful thing that would tie her to him.

Zevran’s voice cut into her thoughts like a harsh wind. “Don’t get the wrong idea about it. You killed Taliesen. As far as the Crows will be concerned, I died with him. That means I’m free, at least for now. Feel free to sell it, or wear it…or whatever you’d like. It’s really the least I could give you in return.”

And just like that Siri was floored, reminded of Zevran’s fleeting nature and her own worth. She kept staring at the earring in her hand, unable to feel the warmth. Perhaps it was just as well. Her ears were not pierced. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He closed her fingers over it, squeezing her hand. “It’s meant a lot to me, but so have…so has what you’ve done.” He peered into her face, his smile still incomplete and her own false. “Thank you. I have no better way to say it. In the Crows, we do not have ‘friends,’ and yet here you are and I cannot help but consider you such.”

Siri squeezed her hand tightly, praying she wouldn’t break into tears. “I think of you as more than a friend.”

Zevran smile wavered—or perhaps she just imagined it—and he said with a soft chuckle, “I…must admit that I have thought of you in the same way. I simply had no idea you might…feel the same. How very novel.”

She grasped at those words just as desperately as she grasped at the front of his cotton shirt, pulling him down for a kiss she hoped would silence her tumultuous mind. He was hers in  _this_ , but not completely. He never would be, and she would have to live with that.

Perhaps the Taint was a blessing in that respect.

She began to push him towards the bed, lips pressing kisses to the smooth skin of his neck. Yes, between the intensity of the sex and the oblivion of sleep she could forget she was a diversion, a warm and willing body.

Then his hands suddenly wrapped around her wrists and he pushed her away slightly. His eyes were closed and he wore a small frown. “No, I…no. I mean no offense, I simply…no.”

Siri looked at him, caught off-guard. He had never… _never_  refused sex. He respected her when she just wanted to sleep, but was more than willing when she was. “Is something wrong?” There was. There had to be. Something was terribly wrong.

Zevran opened his eyes but did not meet hers. “I do not wish to talk about it,” he said flatly, releasing her hands but making sure to keep some distance between them.

She went on asking, though, “Are you sure? You look like you do want to talk about it–”

His eyes suddenly blazed with annoyance and he snapped at her as he sliced at the air with his hand, “Enough! I said…I am not interested. Can you not understand that? There are other things for you to focus on besides me, I am certain. Do…do those.”

Every single word was like a slap, and she’d seen none of them coming. She had backed away a step, flinching at the sheer harshness of his tone and instantly reminded of every face and voice that had spoken to her in such ugly tones all of her life.

Especially when they were reminding her of her place.

It was happening again, only on the surface. And it was  _Zevran_ speaking to her in such a hateful way. The brand on her cheek burned as though she’d barely received it, and the actual memory reared back to strike at her.

_You are a brand._

_You are casteless._

_You were born cursed._

_You are nothing._

“I knew it,” she said softly, almost to herself as the air around her began to smell of smoke and her stomach twisted. Nothing had changed, and it would never change. Not while she had this brand on her face, telling the world that she was lower than the dust.

Neither hearing nor seeing anything, Siri turned and sped out of the room and out of the estate, not knowing if Zevran had called out her name.

She took in great gulps of cool night air once she was outside, stumbling across the courtyard to lean against the well and just…wish the earth would swallow her up.

The earring was still in her tight fist, and for a second she was tempted to throw it into the watery depths. But  _Stone damn her,_  she could not bear to.

_Dust_ _Town_ _. It sticks to the skin._

Siri walked aimlessly, wondering if she could truly  _be_ nothing and evanesce into smoke, vanishing without a trace just as the Ancestors wanted the casteless to do.

Then again perhaps she had already disappeared.

_I do not exist._


	3. Chapter 3

“I knew it.”

Siri sounded so resigned and broken, and Zevran had little idea what she meant. He merely looked away from her, not wanting to see the stricken look on her face. He said nothing when she ran out of the room, his legs wanting to move and head out after her.

But he remained still, clenching his fists at his sides and denying the pain in his chest. He had to. For her sake and his own.

Especially after he’d nearly watched Taliesen kill another woman he loved.

 _Idiota_ , he admonished himself, trying to harden his heart against that accursed word.  _You cannot love her, or anyone else. Not again._

Feeling more defeated than ever, Zevran sat back down on the edge of the bed, convincing himself that it was all for the best. Siri would concentrate on her task and Zevran would go his own way, running from the Crows and resolving never to love again. And who knew? Perhaps one day he’d come upon a foe too strong for him, and his life would end.

It might have been better for them both if Siri had slit his throat when they first met.

He supposed she had run either to Wynne or Fenthari, or perhaps her faithful hound.  _It does not matter,_ he told himself, forcing himself to stay put.  _She is free to do as she likes. She is not yours._

So he stayed in that lonely room for at least an hour, remembering every single law of the Crows and trying to keep from thinking of the blood flowing from Siri’s neck.

Then there was an insistent knocking upon the door. His body unusually heavy he got up and opened it.

Fenthari Mahariel stood there, her brows meeting in the middle upon seeing him. “Hello, Zevran. Is Siri in here?”

“She is not with you?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Would I be asking if she were? I need to talk to her about Eamon’s plans and I can’t find her anywhere. After what happened to you two in the alley, I figured she’d be here.”

He sighed, not feeling up to bantering. “She left about an hour ago.”

“Alone?”

“I assumed she would go to you, or to Wynne.”

Fenthari gave him a shrewd gaze that quickly turned into a fierce glare. “Did you argue? What did  _you_  say?”

Her tone was accusatory, but Zevran did not bother deflecting it. He sighed and gestured for her to enter the room, and once he closed the door he leaned upon it and crossed his arms. “I simply reminded our mutual friend of her duty, and told her I was uninterested in her advances on this night.”

Now Zevran had a decent enough memory, but this night was not a normal night for him, so he truly did not remember that Fenthari moved  _fast_ , and she was quick as lightning as she walked up to him and slapped him, hard.

His head snapped sideways and he saw spots in front of his eyes but he managed to regain his balance and stare at her in surprise.

Her brown eyes were ablaze with anger, and her lips were curled back in a snarl much like the wolf she was named for. “Zevran, you complete  _idiot!”_ She shook her head at him disgustedly.“Have you really not noticed that she’s in love with you?”

Zevran straightened, his sigh heavy and bitter. “I was afraid of that.”

“ _You_ …Do you  _want_ me to kill you?! Elgar’nan, do you have any idea what you’ve done, you  _seth’lin?!_  Were you not paying attention to her in Orzammar?!”

He spat back, “Of course I was! She was miserable there! Everywhere she went, those fools would stare at her as though she were a genlock!”

Fenthari’s eyes narrowed. “That’s right. They made her feel like nothing. You know, ever since she started with you, I didn’t think you were worth her time and I let her know. But she told me she was terrified of not being worth yours. That’s been the constant in her life: being worthy of  _you_.”

The way she hissed “you” let him know exactly what she thought of him. He and Fenthari barely got along, Siri mediating between them. Yet…in that moment he remembered every single flicker of doubt and pain in Siri’s face when they would speak, but she would brush off her misgivings with the smile that had his heart pounding like a drum.

He remembered her desperation in Orzammar, and how she almost believed what they said about her.

Closing his eyes in anguish, Zevran breathed, “Andraste take me for a fool!”

“I’m sure she will,” Fenthari growled. “Now get out of my way or help me find her.”


	4. Chapter 4

The moon was full and the stars blazed across the sky.

Siri looked at that beauty, taking it all in and swearing she would cherish that glorious sight for the rest of her life.

Pork whined when she scratched his head too hard, and she slowed her strokes in apology.

He’d found her about five minutes after she’d run out of the estate, whining worriedly and butting her side insistently. Siri had fallen to her knees and hugged his neck tightly, crying into his fur for a few minutes before setting off away from the estate grounds, her body tired and her eyes sore.

They sat together silently along the wall, Siri taking deep breaths of the clean night air and just feeling Pork’s warm body beside her.

He helped her think. 

Siri thought of every moment of her life when she had known love.

Kalah’s love was suffocating and painful, reminding her not to reach too high or risk getting her hopes dashes. Rica’s love was warm and nurturing, every word and gesture filling her childhood with tenderness.

And really, that was it until she reached the surface. She knew Fenthari, Alistair, and Leliana loved her, in that priceless way of friends that made no demands. They had a common tie. They had survived betrayal and were joined in this mad quest to save Ferelden.

Morrigan considered her and Fenthari sisters, giving them both a love as surprising and rare as a perfect gem. Well…perhaps she would not have called it that, but Fenthari did.

Wynne was everything she had ever wanted in a mother, lovingly stroking her hair whenever Siri sat beside her in camp, laughing while telling her a story about her days mentoring apprentices.

Pork had apparently loved her from the moment she muzzled him in Ostagar.

They gave it all freely, expecting nothing in return. None of them ever told her to get out of their way, or that she was cursed. They smiled at her, let her in on their games, and called her “friend.”

How she remembered blushing with warm pride when Fenthari told her what  _lethallin_ meant.

Zevran…

His eyes, golden as brilliant coins, softened to honey when he spoke to her. That had to be love, true?

_Why did he reject me, then? Did…Did Orzammar finally make him realize what I was?_

No, that couldn’t be it. Not when everyone else became considerably warmer toward her after those horrible weeks. Even Zevran was undeniably insistent in his embraces, looking at her in the eye and kissing her cheek as though that accursed brand were not even there.

Yes, she determined. People  _did_ love her.

Zevran did not. Or did he? She sighed and rubbed at her eyes, the earring still within her fist. He had insisted it had no meaning, yet why had he looked so nervous before giving it to her? He could not have been so nervous had it really been a mere gift borne of gratitude.

She didn’t know.

“Siri!”

Fenthari’s voice shook her out of her thoughts and she turned to her right, where she found the elf looking down at her with relief. She smiled at her friend, but it quickly disappeared when Zevran appeared behind her.

She felt no sadness anymore. She was angry. “Came to see if I’m focusing on my duties?”

He looked embarrassed, and there was a red mark on his cheek. Siri’s eyes flicked towards Fenthari. Good.

He cleared his throat and began, “I…I hoped to speak with you, Siri.”

She got to her feet, holding a growling Pork by the collar. “Now you want to speak? You weren’t so eager to when I asked.”

Zevran took a step forward, unwary of the angry mabari. “I know, and I realize how I have erred in my behavior towards you. Please, let me explain.”

Glaring at him, Siri said through her teeth, “Fine. I’ll let you talk.”

Fenthari looked between them uncertainly. “Siri, do you want me to leave?”

She pushed the mabari towards the elf. “…Take Pork with you. I want Zevran’s ears intact while I say a few things to him.”

“Alright.” Fenthari took Pork’s collar and began to lead him away, pausing to frown at Zevran before leaving.

Now it was just the two of them, Siri crossing her arms as Zevran cleared his throat. “Siri, I–”

“No. I speak first.” She had never spoken to anyone with such vehemence, but blessedly he listened to her and shut up. “I want to know what’s changed, Zevran. Or if anything even changed, and you just got tired of hiding your disdain for the casteless dwarf you decided to fuck.”

He turned a fierce gaze on her. “ _Disdain?_ That’s what you presume I think of you?”

She shook her head, not wanting to lose her nerve in the face of his outrage. “No, no, you have  _no right_  to be angry! Not when I’ve felt worthless and inconsequential from the moment you told me love had no place between us. But you kept coming to my tent, even in Orzammar after you saw for yourself what my own people thought of me. Now…tonight…you seem different now.” She softened her tone, her sorrow returning at full blast.

Zevran too looked pained, and sighed in resignation before asking, “Are you certain you wish to talk about this? I really do not know what to say.”

Siri shrugged in exasperation. “Just tell me. Tell me here and now. Are you having second thoughts about us?”

Then he reached for her hands, taking them in his and squeezing them tightly. “I…no, this…” He closed his eyes, brow furrowing in brief anguish, and he opened them to look at her with such sadness. “I am acting like a child, I realize. I apologize. Let me try to explain.”

She felt her frown dissipate and nodded.

“An assassin…must learn to forget about sentiment. It is dangerous. You take your pleasures where you can, when life is good. To expect anything more would be reckless. I thought it was the same between us. Something to enjoy, a pleasant diversion and little more. And yet…” His grip on her hands loosened slightly, his thumbs beginning to gently stroke her knuckles.

She inhaled sharply. Zevran was a seducer. He knew what a touch could do to a body, and…he had never given her so chaste a touch. In it she sensed uncertainty and…perhaps fondness.

She looked up at him. “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

His answer was both everything and nothing she expected. “I don’t know. How would you know such a thing? I grew up amongst those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favor of the kill.” He brought a hand up to touch her neck, the tips of his fingers gliding over the place where Taliesen had injured her. “Everything I have been taught says what I feel is wrong. Yet I cannot help it. Since you asked me into your tent, I have been nothing but confused. Do you understand me at all?”

Siri closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, bringing his other hand over her heart. “I do. And I feel the same way…All my life others told me I had no right to expect or hope. I still fell in love with you from the first, even if my head was telling me for a long time that I was wrong to do so.”

Then Zevran smiled at her. Not one of his more lascivious or playful ones, but one that made his face glow with joy and…and love. “Then that is enough for me.” He leaned in to press their lips together, holding her closer as she closed her eyes and felt, for the first time, the absence of lust and a wealth of simple love.

He breathed softly against her mouth, kissing her lower lip and moving across to her cheek. He touched their foreheads together, something Siri had envied whenever she saw Fenthari and Alistair do it.

Zevran softly said, still holding her close to him, “I am sorry for acting so strangely. I think I will be better, now. Much better. Now…” He grinned in earnest and rubbed her chilled arms. “Shall we continue this conversation in the comfort of your room? This is truly an unholy cold.”

She laughed and buried her face in his chest, shaking with emotion.

They were silent as they made their way back into the estate, Siri giving Fenthari a reassuring glance when she caught the elf peeking out of her bedroom. Pork was contentedly sleeping in the vestibule, and she saw little point in disturbing him.

When she closed the door she crossed the room to stroke Zevran’s neck with her hands, clicking her tongue with sympathy when he winced when her thumb touched his reddened cheek. “Oh…Fenthari hit you hard, didn’t she?”

He then gave her a kicked-nug look, complete with a pout. “Indeed she did. It still hurts, but I deserved it.”

“Poor you.” She gently kissed that cheek, breath hitching when his hands stroked her back with a ferocity that made her knees shake.

Some time after they were naked beneath the thick blanket, her head resting on his shoulder as she idly traced a scar beneath his rib cage. It was nearly hidden by the black tattoos that bolded the curves of his muscles. It was probably more appropriate to call him handsome, but Siri thought Zevran was beautiful.

She sighed in satisfaction, smiling at the memory of Zevran’s almost desperate kisses and his intense gaze as she fell over the edge, over and over again.

“…Can I ask you a question?”

“If it’s a dirty one, certainly.”

She kissed his collarbone. He was back to his old self. “Do you want to tell me about that last mission now?”

He made a soft noise in the back of his throat but kept stroking her hair. “Yes, I suppose it is time. You have been a good friend to me, after all. There is no reason to be silent.” He took a deep breath, Siri feeling him tense beneath her. “There is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home, and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows. Meeting you, after all, was quite an accident. My last mission before this one…did not end well.”

She raised herself up to look at him properly. “What happened?”

He rubbed at his forehead with his fingers, as though in pain. “You must realize that until that day I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often…both as an assassin and lover.”

Siri smirked. “You were  _more_  cocky and arrogant?”

Zevran actually chuckled, though it was half-hearted. “Indeed. I was often told I was insufferable…right before I ended up in bed with someone. Such is how it was. One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: A wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent. Taliesen agreed to be part of my team, as well as an elven lass named Rinna.”

When he spoke her name, it was with a softness that told Siri volumes.

“She was….a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired.”

A small smile appeared on his face at the memory, and Siri tried to ignore that pang of jealousy. “And you fell in love,” she stated, still looking at him. She would not look away now. Not again.

Zevran nodded slowly. “Rinna was special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me.” Then he looked straight up at the ceiling, frowning. “When Taliesen revealed to me that RInna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesen to kill her.”

Siri watched as his face twisted in misery. “Rinna  _begged_  me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in my face and said that even if it were true, I didn’t care.”

She felt cold horror in the pit of her belly and sorrow tight her throat. “And you killed her?”

He inhaled deeply and turned on his side, holding on to her gaze. “Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all.”

Siri’s eyes filled with tears for the second time that night, her hand coming up to stroke Zevran’s cheek consolingly. “You had no way of knowing that.”

Zevran bitterly replied. “Of course not. I didn’t care to know. I…wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt.” His eyes then darkened. “We needn’t have bothered. The Crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew…and they didn’t care. And one day my turn would come.”

“Why would he do that?”

He closed his eyes and relaxed under her hand. “To rub it in my face, perhaps. That I was nothing. That she was nothing.”

Her heart stuttered at that. She remembered every moment when Beraht gloated about his accomplishments with Rica and how much money she brought in. He did it to remind them both that they were nothing without him, and that he owned them.

Zevran opened his eyes and softly went on. “You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens? And then…this happened. And here I am.”

Siri nestled closer to him, skin tingling from the telling contact when he wrapped his arms around her. She gently asked, “Do you still want to die?”

She felt him smile into her hair. “No. What I want is to begin again. Whatever it is I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it. I owe you a great deal.” His grip tightened and his voice was ragged when he said, “…When I heard you cry out today and saw you bleeding, I thought…”

“Shh…” Siri understood completely.


End file.
